O Cassandra
by wynnebat
Summary: Hogwarts celebrates Carmentalia, yet for some the holiday is an unhappy one.


Late into the night, the snow fell and fell. But warmth rose inside Hogwarts castle with every log thrown in a fireplace, every warming charm cast, every hit of a boot against marble floors. Every brush of skin in fast-paced dance, a human echo of the resonating rhythm of kettle drums and lyras, beckoned sweat, heating the room to a more than comfortable temperature.

The event was a joyous Carmentalia celebration, one that brought together parents and students and teachers alike in early January to honor Carmenta, the most famous Seer of ancient times, and her disciples, the Camenae, witches of divination and prophecy. Some said that modern day Seers descended from the Camenae, and some, in whisper, said that Rowena Ravenclaw was descended from the Great One herself.

But now, everyone danced, welcoming the future and the opportunities that lay ahead, the crops that would prosper in the coming spring and the knowledge they would receive from Hogwarts. Avid dancing filled the Great Hall. In the hands of adults, mead passed palms as quickly as firewhiskey, and blood warmed cheeks and spirits.

Behind the teacher's table played a group of traveling musicians, having come north from the magical communities of the Arabian peninsula to Hogwarts to play at Hogwarts' own Carmentalia celebration. They played to the enjoyment of the parents and teachers while a bard entertained the youth in a neighboring room, telling stories of magical carpets and jinns who granted every wish.

"Even the powers of a Seer?" a young apprentice asked, looking longingly at the steady wooden door that led to the Great Hall. Muted sounds of music and laughter, heard even through thick walls of stone, beckoned him to join in the celebration, but his teachers had drawn an age line to enter, and he was two years too young.

"Of course," the bard answered. "A jinn can give you anything, except maybe love. Love is one thing we all have to strive for on our own."

The apprentice leaned closer, and cautiously looked both ways in case someone was listening in. It would do no good to get caught gossiping about one of the founders of Hogwarts, someone who had the power to expel him from the school, but still he asked, "Did Lady Ravenclaw get her powers from a jinn?"

The bard stroked his long beard and wondered. "Likely not, but anything is possible," he answered. "There live no jinn here, and she has likely never visited the Far East, but her ancestors may have... Seers are common as fireflies, but true Seers... They are far more prized. Has she perhaps divulged to you a prophesy?"

Thinking back on his encounters with Lady Ravenclaw, the apprentice shook his head. "She has not. Why would she tell anything to a lowly apprentice such as I? But maybe one day, when I finish my schooling, I can ask her what she Sees ahead of me."

"Perhaps you will not want to know," the bard said, then conceded to telling the group of youngsters another story, one of Aladdin and his lamp, and of his jinn.

In the far corner of the room, a man of middling age snorted, but said nothing lest he offend the bard and be forced to watch the children himself. He let himself out of the room, going through the Great Hall to the highest tower, where he knew he would find the spoken of Seer. She faced away from him, staring out the open window into the snowy expanse of Hogwarts grounds.

"I heard you received your powers from a jinn," he began, closing the door behind him but walking no closer to the lady. "I wonder, then, does this holiday inspire your Sight?"

The woman, Rowena, didn't turn. Instead she looked up to the heavens, letting snowflakes fall and melt on her face. "I See what I have always Seen, Godric," she said simply, speaking of an old argument between them.

Instead of a horse's length between them, it felt like the entire Black Lake had come between them, and Godric grit his teeth in annoyance. Rowena was on the other shore, alone in her delusions. "Paranoid woman," he said, "will you quit your hysteria?

His voice was angry, but Rowena didn't flinch, and calmly spoke, "I will never. There is something wrong with our school, Godric. There is an evil presence inside it. I wonder, is it you?"

His hands clenched, nails digging into his skin. "You will go so far as accuse me of—"

"I will." Her voice was sharp, as cutting as the winds that blew inside the open tower window. "I know it's there because I See. I See it attack, I See it kill our precious students, and I See a monster more fiendish than itself control it." She lost her voice for a moment, overtaken by visions of a boy hardly older than an apprentice, dark-haired and mad, a thirst for power inside him deeper than any well. "I have searched the castle for months and found nothing, but I will search for years if I must."

"You would better spend your time educating the youth than frequenting your fantasies. Salazar's castle is safe. Do you not love me? Do you not remember my vow to protect you, and our shared vows to protect Hogwarts? There will be no deaths at Hogwarts."

"I love you, husband." She turned away from the cold and took his hand in hers. "But I will not abide by your guidance on this. Speak with Salazar, and our issue will end. He confides in you in everything. I believe he may confide in you in this."

"I will. A husband and wife are not meant to fight. Come, dance with me."

Godric led Rowena to the Great Hall again, and they danced alongside their peers in the comfort that warmth provided. Twelve fireplaces and countless warming charms heated the Great Hall, until the cold outside was forgotten by all except for one. Despite Godric's assurances, Rowena Ravenclaw felt the cold deep in her heart, and each snowflake that fell outside carried the wide, terrified eyes of a student staring at death itself.

Down below, the Basilisk slept.


End file.
